Thicker Than Water
by emilyshka
Summary: The war is raging on all sides, things look bleak for the side of light and the muggles are starting to notice something amiss. Perhaps not everyone would prefer for them to remain uninvolved. Post OOTP.
1. Prologue

Disclaimer: Most of the characters in this story belong to J.K. Rowling, I could pretend they were mine but that would not be very fair to you or to me now, would it? If you have tastes similar to mine, you will notice that I use several bits and pieces from movies, books, and TV shows. I will credit them, but I feel like letting you guess which bits are from where. A chocolate-covered gold star to whoever guesses them all! Emily McKeown is a character of my own creation and if at any point in this story she begins to show signs of Marysue-itis I hope you will forgive me, I'm still not entirely sure at this point whether I'm going to even post this story so try to bear with me here. Enjoy.

emilyshka

Prologue

Emily McKeown was wandering down the smoky streets of London in the purple glow of dawn with her husband of two years, David, a heavy suitcase and an increasing feeling that she was going to be sick.

As a frantic kick in her belly caused a fresh wave of bile to bubble up her throat she gestured wildly at David to stop and leaned over a helpfully positioned bush, heaving violently. 'Joys of motherhood my ass', she thought bitterly before ducking into the foliage once more. David was sympathetically stroking her back and at the same time feeling entirely out of his depth. He helpfully pulled the hair back from her face and took a moment to glare at the staring passerby. They would need to get a taxi, he thought desperately, the plane would be leaving in half an hour and they were going to be late. 'Nothing new there,' he thought wryly. They had developed something of a reputation, he thought, both of them preferred to be punctual and then irrevocably arrived late. Meanwhile Emily was straightening up and looking at him.

"Well, I suppose we could always get a taxi."

He smiled quietly and turned to hail one of the big black cars driving by. Emily looked down tiredly at the mess in the bushes and sighed. Three days with little to no sleep. Morning sickness for the past month, swollen ankles, underwear that didn't fit...she sighed again. She loved children, though preferably when they weren't kicking her from the inside at the most inopportune moments. 'Perhaps I should have taken Mom's advice after all,' she thought, reflectively, 'pregnancy is as good an excuse as any for missing a wedding, even if the bride is your sister. And I'm so tired.'

'And then I could forego the experience of Maggie's fiancé altogether' she thought, for the tenth time at least, 'until she's trained Chaz not to refer to me as "that snooty bitch you call a sis —Oh, hi Emily." '

Smiling slightly, she spat squarely in the dirt to rinse the bitter taste of bile from the back of her throat, wondering absently if she could get away with throwing up on Chaz's tux before the ceremony if she blamed it on morning sickness when she spotted a small movement in the alleyway behind the bushes. It was one of thousands of alleys about London: thin, with high walls of deep dusty red bricks and a dirty ground covered in newspaper and rubbish. Also there was a black trail of some heavy cloth slithering around the corner at the end of the alley. Curious, she leaned forward and tried to peer around the end of the alley, but she couldn't see anything except a mud-spattered edition of Cosmopolitan. She looked around thoughtfully at David who was leaping out of the way of a taxi that had not bothered to stop, splattering him with dirty water and she grinned when David began yelling and shaking his fist after the car.

"Oh, what the hell," Emily murmured, "one last bit of adventure before the wedding". And, with no small amount of difficulty, she stepped over the bush and walked down the alley pausing only to motion that David should follow her.

The alley was, in fact, much longer than it appeared and she was well down it by the time David had caught up. "Em, do you really think this is a good idea?" he looked at her through cool gray eyes, "I mean, the whole dark deserted alleyway aside—we're going to be late as it is." She looked back at him with an even blue gaze and a wicked grin that didn't match it.

"Oh, c'mon Dave. Do you really think they have anything this interesting in Minnesota? Not likely." She tried to walk faster, which resulted in nothing more than a rather unattractive and ungainly waddle. "Just humor me for a minute, I thought I saw something interesting."

And there was something interesting waiting at the end of the alley. Several somethings of great interest wearing long black robes and white masks and (if anyone had bothered to look closely) a rather tasteless tattoo on each of their left forearms. The somethings were still there several minutes later when Emily and David McKeown rounded the bend. One near the front said something that Emily could not hear and the long wooden stick that she hadn't noticed that was in his hand pulsed suddenly, sending a shock of green light at David.

Emily had been too shocked to scream; she felt the life leave David's body as he crumpled to the ground next to her like so much cloth. She only regained feeling when one of the somethings grabbed her from behind. She fought with every ounce of her strength and she heard the something gasp with pain as she kicked in the general direction of his legs. Another of them, 'The leader' she thought, held up one of the sticks and it pulsed again, red this time. She felt a moment of shock as she stared at the lump that only a few moments ago had been her husband and then the light hit her.

Then she felt nothing at all.

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emilyshka


	2. Myth and Shadow

Thank you Silence-before-betrayal for your review! It's true; they do make you feel all warm and fuzzy inside! Keep up the superb work.

And now, without further ado...

"...This is the sound of myth, it makes the same noise as shadow. Can you hear it? ..."

-The Love of the Nightingale

Chapter 1

When Emily drifted back into consciousness she was first aware that she was alone...only to realize that she was not. There were things moving around in the darkness ahead of her, things that drifted in and out of the deep velvety shadows. But the more she tried to focus on distinct shapes in the darkness the more they melted into the walls until she was sure that they were just shadows themselves.

'Not getting anywhere that way.' She thought and focused on examining the rest of the room. Everything she could see, the floor, the ceiling, the wall she was—she realized with a start—chained to were all made of the same cold gray stone slabs. Dully fitted into a jigsaw pattern they spread across all planes in an unbroken flood of solid rock, leaving no holes for doors or windows. 'Or,' she thought, looking around, 'anything to create the light I'm using to explore.' The air was simply filled with a dull glow that stopped abruptly halfway down the wall as though an invisible line had been drawn across the room. 'No exit.' Emily thought and choked back a hysterical sob with some difficulty.

"Stop that," she muttered fiercely, "you can cry after you've found a way out of here."

She struggled against the weight of the chains to look at where they were bolted to the wall. The chains were heavy iron, with no obvious lock mechanism for her to pick or break. The links were all free of rust and unbroken.

"If miss is trying to get free she should stop and save her strength—unless she can work magic."

Emily's head whipped around so fast she was in danger of snapping a tendon. She saw a tiny wrinkled creature, with green leathery skin and huge yellow eyes the size and shape of tennis balls. "Um..." she began, already having endured far too many impossibilities for one day. "What—who are you?" changing her mind halfway through the first question.

The thing looked at her dully and Emily noticed that one of its eyes was blind. The milky pupil in the yellow eye giving the strange impression of a pearl trapped in a bead of amber.

"I is Blinky, Miss, A house elf. And," Blinky added, "Unless Blinky is mistaken, Miss is a muggle." Emily's blank look seemed to be all the answer the (what was it, House Elf?) needed. She (it?) looked pityingly at Emily. Emily ignored this and decided to change tactics.

"Listen—Blinky right? Do you know where we are?" Blinky frowned and tilted her head to one side, as thought listening to something.

"Miss has a funny voice." She concluded after what seemed like much deliberation. "And we is in my master's house, the Malfoy Manor." Emily raised an eyebrow in an expression of mild disbelief she had perfected in years of teaching.

"My voice isn't funny, I'm just American." She said, trying and failing to look offended. "And were you even there a minute ago? I could've sworn I was all alone."

"There is and illusion put on this room Miss Muggle." Blinky said blinking her huge wet eyes at Emily. "There is five other muggles here as well, they is all hidden by the darkness illusion." She gestured meaningfully at the place where light stopped abruptly and the shadow began. "The magic is hiding my master and all the others."

"Magic." Emily repeated, her voice dull with disbelief. She began to giggle. The giggles became more frantic as she took her breath in great shuddering gasps and her shoulders shook. Emily was dimly aware that the tears running down her face meant she had succumbed to hysterics and of a hand the size of a child's patting her firmly on the back. She calmed herself down slightly, though she still felt herself shaking and her breathing was certainly not normal. "I'm sorry." She whispered after a few moments of silence and Blinky's hand slid from her back, "That was just...I mean—"She shook her head and chuckled wetly, "_magic._"

"Miss must accept it." Blinky said firmly, "Blinky will give Miss some advice. Just stay quiet, they sometimes lets some muggles go."

"But who are 'They', and what are they going to do to us?" And what's a muggle? she added silently.

Blinky just looked at her gently, almost pityingly. Like a mother explaining to a toddler that, yes, this flame was hot too. All flames were hot. Trust her please.

"They is Death Eaters miss and my master is one of them."

"You keep calling him 'Master'" she noted aloud, "That sounds a little like slavery to me. In fact," she notices for the first time the house elf wasn't wearing chains like she was, "why don't you scram? You don't look like you've been tied to anything." The elf looked offended.

"Blinky has magic binding herself to the Malfoy family Miss, she is a good elf, she does not run from punishment." But Blinky looked very afraid in spite of her brave tone and Emily could not help but wonder what sort of punishment anyone could give such a kind (and no doubt, old) creature.

"And the—the Death Eaters," She began nervously, not wanting to further offend the elf, "What do they want with me?"

A look. _All flames burn baby girl_.

Emily fell back against the wall and closed her eyes. "Oh."

"Miss mustn't loose faith." Blinky had clasped her pale hand between her two leathery ones. "If she listens to them, she may learn something."

Emily's eyes opened angrily, "And what good does that do me if I don't live to tell anyone about it?"

"It is something for miss to hold onto." Blinky said firmly, undaunted by Emily's anger.

Emily let her eyelids fall shut again. "That's not much."

"It is enough, sometimes."

Severus Snape was not having a Good Day. This in and of itself was not particularly unusual. Generally he regarded Good Days as things that happened to other people.

People who didn't have a new batch of inept students to look forward to in a few weeks.

People who didn't have to play spy in the war of the century.

People not him. This particular day, however, was a very bad day, even for him.

Last week he had brought news that a meeting would be taking place between Dumbledore and several people who would be able to give them information on the Dark Lord's plans. But rather than giving the news directly to the Dark Lord, he took great pains to plant the information in Crabbe's head. It was a delicate operation, especially concerning Crabbe who rarely understood what you were talking about even when you came out and said it directly. Crabbe, as expected, went directly to Goyle with the information expecting to be congratulated only to have Goyle not so subtly blab to Wormtail. Wormtail naturally brought the news to the Dark Lord. If Snape was very lucky, the news of the fictional meeting would never be traced back to him and Wormtail would be punished in his stead.

Unfortunately the ambush planned by Moody in the set place of meeting had gone awry and the fictional meeting had turned into a real one. Moody himself was still in a hospital bed and had sworn to Dumbledore without bothering to lower his voice that Snape had relayed the plans of the ambush to the enemy.

Snape was a little surprised that no one else had arrived to that conclusion.

He had very nearly not come tonight, being constantly reminded of both his failed plans with the Order and his wasted efforts in hiding his hand in what had happened was not his idea of a nice party. It had, however, been discreetly explained to him by Lucius that if he, Lucius, did not see him, Severus, at the dark revel that evening then he, Severus, would regret it.

Severus had tactfully decided to come.

And here they all were celebrating Wormtail's great cunning and the neatly won battle. Wormtail had been afforded a special treat: he was seated in the place of honor, at the right hand of the Dark Lord.

Snape glanced at him and allowed himself a thin smile behind his mask. Wormtail did not look particularly comfortable. Rather like a small child who was sitting at the grown up's table for the first time and wasn't at all sure which fork he should use first. In any case he was fidgeting even more than usual and he kept scratching the line where his silver hand met the flesh of his arm.

Looking around at the rest of the room he noted that a Shadowing Charm had been set in place, probably Lucius' idea of impressive décor. But no, he narrowed his eyes and saw the distorted shapes on the other side of the dark veil. 'Those must be the entertainment for the evening,' he thought, slightly nauseous. And, indeed, here came Lucius, every inch the proud host on his walk around the heavy horseshoe table they were sitting at.

"I noticed you examining our fine specimens for this evening Severus. You really must acquire some patience you know." Severus could feel the sickening look of anticipation on Lucius' face through the mask.

"Patience, Lucius?" He inquired silkily. "You know that my tastes of entertainment fall along more subtle lines."

Lucius' excitement seemed to wilt slightly. "Ah, yes." He said curtly, "I'd forgotten about your squeamish tendencies, honestly Severus they're only muggles." He pronounced the word as others might say 'slime', or perhaps, 'dirt'.

"So I gathered." Snape's tone was bitingly soft, "Where were they collected?" He had counted seven shapes in the darkness and it seemed just like Lucius to capture an entire family.

"I picked them up around London with Crabbe and Goyle." He drawled, obviously thinking he was humbly revealing to Snape just how many of his fellow Death Eaters looked up to him. Snape was not fooled; as one of said reluctant followers he knew that others followed Lucius because he was closest to becoming the right hand man of the Dark Lord, the moment he showed a weakness his 'followers' would be on him like a pack of hungry wolves. "You see the one on the far right?" Severus squinted dutifully at the tiny figure at the end of the line. "My house elf," he said proudly, "Too old to work unfortunately, she couldn't even stop a thief from taking a bit of silver from the Manor the other day."

Snape, who knew the intruder had been Mundungus Fletcher and that he had _not_ been sent to the Malfoy Manor to steal silver, remained silent.

"Naturally," Lucius continued, not expecting a reply, "We can't afford to keep on incompetent servants, especially with the manor under constant watch by Dumbledore and his pets. I thought I would donate her to the festivities."

Severus nodded shortly, knowing that any further remarks made about Lucius' tastes would only arouse suspicion and that the remark about 'Dumbledore and his pets' had been rather pointed. Malfoy may be a fraud and a cheat and perhaps something of a monster, but he was not particularly stupid.

"Lucius..." Lucius flinched behind his mask and hurried back to the center of the table where the Dark Lord was seated.

"My Lord." He murmured, his voice carrying the length of the room and his bow nearly landing his forehead on the table.

"I believe we had entertainment scheduled after dinner?" Voldemort had a look on his face that could have been polite disinterest on anyone else. On him it just looked like a snake that was examining a particularly fat toad to eat.

"Yes My Lord, do you wish for it to begin now?" Lucius' tone was disgustingly obsequious.

"I do Lucius, lower the veil." Snape imagined Lucius looked slightly put out that he hadn't been the one to order the lifting of the illusion, but he managed to fit in a good amount of impressive muttering and waving of his wand all the same. Light flickered like a bad light bulb and the fuzzy images on the other side of the veil slid into sharp focus. They were all women, two on the far left and the one in the middle looked young enough to be his students, the two women on either side of them looked to be in their late thirties to early forties and the woman next to the house elf was in her late twenties to early thirties and pregnant.

"Bring the girl on the right forward Lucius."

"The elf, My Lord?" Lucius sounded disgustingly eager.

"No, Lucius, the Girl." Voldemort sounded amused as the pregnant woman snapped her head up and stared in horror.

Snape could only imagine what she was thinking while she looked at that face, the white face and huge red eyes that appeared in even _his_ nightmares. He decided he didn't want to imagine and concentrated on keeping his mind blank.

Lucius walked over to her and tapped the chains with his wand, causing them to fall to the ground. The girl rubbed her wrists where the manacles had been and was dragged to the center of the floor, looking scared.

"This one my lord?" Voldemort nodded, plainly enjoying the amount of fear he was causing the woman being pushed to the floor.

"After this one, you may bring forward the house elf, Nagini has yet to have her supper and the elf will pay for stealing your silver." The girl's eyes widened further and she looked from the house elf to the giant snake Voldemort was gesturing towards.

"No." The word seemed to escape before she could stop it and she clapped a hand over her mouth in horror, as though to shove it back inside.

"No." Voldemort repeated, shifting his attention from snake to girl, "You have something to say muggle?" The girl shook her head so hard Snape was convinced that what little sense she had was falling from her ears. "You would disobey me?" Voldemort's voice rose in volume, as he stood in one fluid movement that radiated power, "I told you to speak muggle." Spittle was flying from his mouth and his teeth were bared like fangs.

The girl was plainly terrified, but she lowered her shaking hand and spoke. "A servant is not a thief my lord," she began, haltingly, "and those who are cannot help themselves." The anger rolled away from Voldemort as suddenly as it had come, he now sounded mildly interested, leaning back into his chair.

"Go on."

She looked uncertain, but did not hesitate as long this time. "If you suffer your people to be ill-educated," she said in a would-be calm voice, "and their manners corrupted from infancy, and then punish them for those crimes to which their first education disposed them," she took a short pause and a deep breath, "what else is to be concluded, my lord, but that you first make thieves and then punish them?"

Voldemort stared, the girl twitched, and all others present held their breaths in anticipation of one sort or another. Then the Dark Lord threw back his head and laughed. Severus thought it was entirely possible that the girl found this just as terrifying as yelling, but that did not stop him from joining in the sudden chorus of laughter of the Death Eaters. They were abruptly silenced by a wave of the Dark Lord's hand. He was looking at the muggle girl with new interest and a graveyard smile.

"Where did you hear that girl?" He asked, all fangs and manners once more.

"I read it in a book." Then she added quickly, "My lord."

"Well, there you have it." He turned minutely to Lucius, "Let the elf go." Lucius looked flabbergasted, even through his mask.

"But—but My Lord." Voldemort turned to face Malfoy the rest of the way and looked at him through eyes redder than blood. All Malfoy saw were those eyes for several terrible moments. He felt them pick over his soul, felt the Dark Lord's disgust at what he found. Voldemort's voice could almost have been described as friendly, if he had been capable of such a tone.

"You question me Lucius?"

Lucius crashed to his knees as though he had been struck.

"Never, My Lord, never." He gasped, terrified. "I will send the elf back up to the house." And at the smallest sound of dismissal Lucius leapt up and nearly ran to release the elf. Blinky paused by the girl on her way out and nodded almost imperceptibly, the girl nodded back.

Lucius returned to his seat at the table and remained silent, thoroughly chastened. All attention was now focused on the hugely pregnant girl before them.

"Can you sing girl." The question was shot suddenly in the overwhelming silence from deep within the Dark Lord's chair.

"A little." She replied, nervously. He looked her up and down.

"That," he told her, "is not an answer. You either can or you cannot."

"Then I can My Lord." She was still shaking.

"Well," he said, in a hiss of confidence, "I have been looking for a more lasting form of entertainment than my Death Eaters enjoy. Entertaining to be sure, but never lasting longer that a few hours." He looked happier now, "You could make an excellent Fool, Muggle."

She stared, not knowing if she was expected to reply until he waved at one of the bigger Death Eaters ('Crabbe,' she reminded herself) who dragged her to her feet and towards the door. Voldemort continued talking, "Lucius, you will keep her here at the manor. Feed her and such of course, but do not spare too much luxury..."

Emily barely understood what was going on until the Dark Lord turned to face her and she was frozen like a deer caught in the headlights.

"Well Fool," he smiled his graveyard smile, "You are in the service of Lord Voldemort now."

Several bits taken from Neverwhere, a novel by Neil Gaiman which I highly recommend to all of you.

Review please, even if only to flame (although I would prefer if you were polite).

And expect an update in a week or so.

Toodles.


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